Thursday, March 5, 2009
It seems that the idea of walking has become like an addiction: I'm suffering withdrawal symptoms from not walking for 3 whole days. Fortunately, Launceston is blessed with so many interesting walks to do, and my friend M and I are intending on doing them all, several times if need be, as part of a regular Thursday walking 'date'.
So today, M and I had plans to walk to Mt Barrow, another Alpine summit, not too far from where we live, but we both have suffered from too little sleep, and are nursing parallel sadnesses. She for her partner that may have a serious illness, and me for a project I am working on that has gone pear shaped, and my client has taken to attacking me personally, which I am not dealing with terribly well. I must say that my own worries seemed pretty trivial in the face of hers, but still hurt none-the-less. We chose an easy suburban bushwalk of only 2 hours through Cataract Gorge, and the Duck Reach Power station.
And so we walked with our sadnesses, sharing the depth of our fears on the trail. We both cried over our lunch. She, a woman of over 60 who has already lost one husband to an illness, and me, rather selfishly for my sense of wounded pride. The act of walking seemed to work this stuff out of our bodies, and help us find a passage across the suffering.
Next week we will climb a mountain and see if the rarefied air might elevate our spirits a little. We have decided that neither of us wants to carry this mood on another walk, but it is what we both needed to do today.